Last night TKID5 was watching "The Bachelor" (his subsequent shame and self-revulsion was so powerful that it required a two-hour shower during which he screamed like a banshee) when he saw something that made him gag on his ho ho.
A commercial for Duracell batteries was running. On it, a kindly black woman was proudly snapping photos of her handsome son in his basketball duds. I hardly took notice of this bland tripe. Then, while the kid was playing in "the big game" he collapsed on the court. My interest piqued, I watched in shock as paramedics rushed onto the court and, armed with a Duracell-toting defibrillator, shocked the dying hoops player back to life. They literally showed the black kid jolt when they hit him with the juice. It was like some sick version of the Hank Gathers story, all portrayed to sell us batteries.
Profoundly moved, TKID5 went to the nearest corner liquor store and purchased 25 packs of Duracell batteries (along with a 40 oz. of Laser) to help support this noble company. Without more money from people like me, Duracell won't be able to continue saving lives as it did so heroically in this commercial.
